Atypical Wishes
by Falling to Fly
Summary: Behind my smile is a hurting heart. Behind my laugh I'm falling apart. Now everything is unwinding and finding its way back to me. I don't know what to do. All I know is that the pain I felt so long ago is hurting ten times more. Why don't they realize?


**Okay, this is going to be all the non-serious stuff. It's very brief *dies* So here goes: Still taking a break, but I just wanted to let you know that I changed my community from just James kidnappings to ALL James angst. I'm still adding, ha, nowhere near done, but if you're afraid I'll miss something, just let me know. Same goes for if you want to be on the staff. And anyone excited for the new season of BTR? I'm not sure how I feel about James' new haircut yet. I think I might like it, but I haven't seen much of it, so we'll see. And this is all in first person, which I've never done before. But I think it'll come across more seriously if it's from someone's point of view. Okay, everything after this is going to be completely serious.**

**I'm just going to warn you now: this is depressing. But it's completely real. Maybe not for the real James, but people still suffer like this, and it's heart breaking. This is something really serious, and although the angst is horrible, it's something that happens every day, to good people. So please, don't treat this like a joke. Someone out there is hurting, and whether or not you know someone like this, you should always be sensitive about this kind of thing. Trust me.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush**

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I wish someone knew. I wish that Carlos knew that sometimes I just don't have the strength to party with him. I wish Logan knew that sometimes I feel so stupid next to him. I wish that Kendall knew that sometimes his leadership skills aren't as amazing as he thinks they are. I wish that I could tell all of them how tired I am of it all, of the pressure, of the pain, of that horrible, dead feeling that is becoming a big part of my life. If only they knew how much they have hurt me, how much I'm keeping bottled up inside, because I can feel myself slipping, and I know that soon I will finally lose all control and explode. I wish that they knew all of these things, but I can't ask for much. Lord knows that I've done that enough. So if I could only have one of my wishes granted, I know which one it would be: I wish that my friends knew what was wrong with me.

Even that feels like it's asking for too much. For a long time _I _didn't even know what was wrong with me. For months I felt sad, angry, frustrated, _worthless. _But it was more than that. Sometimes I didn't even feel anything at all. There were times when I would be sitting all alone, and I knew that I should be feeling upset, or hateful, or _something. _But I didn't. Most of the time that I was awake, I felt no emotion. I cried myself to sleep at night, and often I was woken up in the middle of the night by Kendall or Carlos or Logan. I'm not sure what I dreamt of, but whatever it was made me scream, and scream, and scream. One would think that after countless nights of being awoken by my cries one of them would have paid a little more attention. But they didn't.

At first I wanted to believe it was nothing. I was a growing teenage boy, and according to every parenting book my mom had ever read, my hormones and all that crap was supposed to be going crazy. I tried to tell myself that it was just some weird phase, something that all teenagers went through at some point. Maybe my friends had already gone through this horrible time, and that's why they didn't notice, or didn't care.

For a long time I tried to convince myself that I was fine, that nothing was wrong. Over the next few months, though, I felt myself slowly receding from my friends' lives. I stopped going down to the pool every day, I didn't do my homework with them, and I even missed a few Fish Sticks Fridays. If I'm being perfectly honest, I just avoided everything. But still no one noticed.

I tried to learn to live with it, so that it wouldn't have such a profound effect on my life. I guess I was secretly hoping that someone would notice how I was feeling though, because my efforts were weak. And one time someone _did _notice. It was the last person I expected to pay much attention to me, and to say I was surprised would be an understatement. But when he asked if I was okay, when for just a split second he actually looked concerned about me, I felt something that I hadn't felt in months: happiness.

I'd like to say that everything got better after that. I wish I could tell you that I told him everything, and that he got me the help that I so clearly needed and we all lived happily ever after. But I didn't. Maybe I was in shock that _Gustavo_ was asking how I felt, or that he was the first one to notice that I wasn't okay. It didn't seem right, because usually he seemed like he hated me more than anyone. It amazed me when I discovered that the great Gustavo Rocque actually had a heart. I don't know what was going through my head then, but ever since I told him that yes, I was perfectly fine, I've known that something definitely wasn't right with me.

So many different things bothered me after that day. There was the fact that that was the first time that I felt like someone genuinely cared about me in a long time. And then I lied about it to them, even though I knew that it could only hurt me in the long run. Then there was the fact that Gustavo was the first one to notice my pain, and not one of my best friends. That last part was probably the most troubling to me, the reason that I started getting less and less sleep at night. Finally I was beginning to truly understand: something was seriously wrong.

Things just went downhill from there. Over the next month life became unbearable. I felt hopeless, and worthless, and sometimes I didn't feel like I deserved to live. No, that's not entirely true. I knew that I deserved to live, I just didn't _want_ to. Living had become a chore, and with each passing day I found myself wanting to end my life more and more. I knew how easy it would be. In a huge city like L.A. there were tons of ways to end your life. I contemplated all the different ways for weeks, and only when I woke up crying one night did I decide that I needed to do something. But first things first: I had to figure out what was wrong.

So I grabbed the laptop that Gustavo and Kelly had given us to share, and somehow I found myself sitting in the living room at three in the morning. At first I was afraid that someone would come out and demand to know what I was doing. As much as I wanted to get help, I wasn't sure I was willing to explain myself to anyone quite yet. How would they react when they found out what was wrong with me?

So I went about my 'research' as quietly as I could. I typed in a few words in the Google Search Bar that was in the corner of the screen, and soon I found myself looking at a long list of different websites. I scanned them briefly, trying to see which one most likely applied to me. As I scrolled down, I felt my heart sinking lower and lower, and by the time I got to the bottom of the first page I found myself getting ready to cry. Every single one of the search results were about to same thing: depression.

For a while I just sat there. I wasn't willing to click on one of the links, wasn't willing to see what I could find. It couldn't be true; I was sixteen, I couldn't be depressed. That was something that happened to people with _reasons_, not kids like me who were fulfilling their dreams of becoming famous with their best friends. But as I sat there, my face lit up by the computer screen, I realized that it was completely possible. Whether or not I wanted to believe it, there was a good chance that I was depressed. So, taking a deep breath, I clicked on the first link that I saw and began reading.

Tears made my vision blur several times as I read. _"When the despair and emptiness won't go away, it might mean you have depression." _I had that. I tried to think back to when I had started feeling so down. Probably right after Griffin had dumped Big Time Rush, or maybe after my friends had tried to reassemble the band and replace me. It had been around that time, and that had been months ago. I tried to calm myself as I read on, but I couldn't get rid of that horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach.

_"Some depressed people don't feel sad at all—instead, they feel lifeless, empty, and apathetic."_ How many times had I felt like that over the past few months? _"Depression offers little, if any, respite." _Wasn't that the truth. _"Signs of depression include: changes in sleeping patterns-" _Check. _"-loss of concentration on relatively simple tasks-" _Check. _"-feeling hopeless and helpless-" _That was a big, fat check. _"-inability to control negative thoughts-" _I found myself laughing at that one, but it was a horrible, hollow sound. _"-changes in appetite, whether it's eating more or not eating at all-" _I didn't have as much trouble with that one because I always ate just as much as the guys, but I didn't eat on my own anymore. I had no appetite. _"-irritably-"_ Hadn't I been frustrated with everything lately? _"-loss of interest in daily activities-"_ I'd been avoiding everything and everyone for what felt like forever. _"-self loathing-" _I'd lost count of how many times I'd told myself that I wasn't worth it, that I was just a screw up. _"-and having thoughts that life is not worth living."_ The last one had a little star by it. My eyes, stinging with tears, searched the screen, looking for the little asterisk that would tell me more about the last sign. Finally I found it, and I almost wished I hadn't. _"Seek help __immediately__ if this is the case."_

I felt sick as I read this. I had so many of those symptoms, and the realization brought the tears forth faster. My body was shaking, and somewhere in the middle of the list a horrible pain had made it's presence known in my chest. I didn't want to read on. Looking back on it now I think I'm glad I did, but at the time… It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. If there's anything that I don't doubt, it's that.

A huge portion of the page talked about what you should do if you were suicidal. "Get help" was the main message. I knew that I _should _get help, but depression is funny like that. Everything you're supposed to do, you don't _want _to do, because you just can't bring yourself to care anymore.

Then it started getting into the different types of depression. There was seasonal depression, which is where people get depressed when it's dark and gloomy outside. Since I was in L.A., I was pretty sure that wasn't what I had. Then there was dysthymia. That was a type of depression that was mild for the most part, and that you only experienced every once in awhile. Judging by how long this had been going on, it probably wasn't that either. Next was atypical depression. Apparently that was a lot like major depression, except that you felt a brief happiness when something good happened. That sounded a lot like what I had. The only one left was major depression, and that was when you were constantly depressed, no break whatsoever. I decided that maybe I had atypical depression. Better than major depression, but it didn't make me feel much better. I'm no doctor; that's Logan's area. But it sounded right to me, and no matter how I looked at it, I definitely had some form of depression.

That had been a week ago, and I still haven't done anything about it. Now that I knew what was wrong I knew that I should tell someone. Gustavo could get me a therapist like he had when I'd gotten Hollywood Fever, and maybe this it would actually _work. _But I still haven't done anything. Since I know that I'm depressed, I've tried being happier. I figured that maybe I could fix myself, and then everything could go back to normal, and no one would be the wiser. But as the days wore on, I've felt myself slowly getting worse, slipping farther and farther into the black hole that had been trying to suck me in for so long.

Now as I'm sitting here alone in my room, I realize that I want to die. I just want to die, and leave all these complicated feelings behind. I long for the day when I don't have to feel this pain, this terrible emptiness that plagues my every movement. I wish that it would just end, that I could be done with it and finally have some peace.

But I know that I can't do that. Whether or not I completely believe it, I'm sure that Kendall, Carlos, and Logan would be devastated. I don't need to put Mrs. Knight, who is practically my second mother, through all of that, and Katie, well, as smart and mature as she is, she's still a little girl. She's about as close to a little sister as I'm going to get, and I can't put her through that. We'd just gotten back from our first tour, our album had been a huge success, and everyone else was so happy. What kind of person would I be if I brought that all crashing down? I thought back to that brief moment of kindness that Gustavo had shown me, and I realized that I couldn't make him take over his uncle's scooter business. I wasn't going to kill myself, that was so selfish. Still, there's nothing more depressing than having it all and still feeling sad.

Have you ever felt so alone and nothing makes sense? Well that's how I feel right now...I feel like I'm facing everything myself, with nothing but tears and a fake smile... I didn't want to admit it. It was easier to lie. Hide the hurt and emptiness, to smile instead of cry. Deep down I know that I need to tell someone, to get the help I need, but I just… can't.

I don't even realize that I'm was crying, but I feel a tear tickle my skin as it slides down my face and under my chin, defying gravity as it clings to my skin. Now more than ever I'm glad that I have this time to be alone, because if anyone asked me what was wrong, I'm almost positive that I would break down and tell them everything. And as much as I want to tell someone, I don't know how, and breaking down in hysterics definitely won't end well.

The sobs that are silently wracking my body aren't as bad as they've been before. I don't know if I'm getting better or just used to the pain. Probably the second one, but I'm not about to admit that. I'm continually amazed that all of this torture has gone unnoticed by my friends, my brothers. They're the ones who're supposed to know me the best, and they don't even realize it when I need them the most. Maybe I'm just not worth it.

There it is again. That feeling of worthlessness that's been flooding my system throughout the days. The emptiness that's become so familiar is taking over, and soon I feel nothing at all. I almost welcome it, because at least now I don't have to feel the pain.

I look up as the door bursts open, and Kendall and Carlos, led by Logan, stumble in. I've never seen anyone look like they do right now. All of their faces are sheet white, and Kendall and Carlos are clenching their fists. I can see hurt, pain, concern, and most of all, panic, in their eyes. Confusion breaks through the emptiness, and then I catch sight of something that Logan is cradling under his arm. My heart plummets, and then the emptiness leaves me completely, replaced by dread, and maybe a little relief.

Logan takes the laptop that he's holding and waves it in front of my face, trying to understand. "Why, James?" he asks, and his voice cracks as he says my name. I hold their gazes, trying to retreat inside my shell so that I'm at least a little protected from what is to come. It doesn't work, though, so I simply shrug, trying to play dumb.

Logan opens the portable computer and sets it on my bed, pointing wildly at the glowing screen. "Why, James?" he asks again. "Why didn't you tell someone?" I meet his questions with more silence, and all three of their faces look hurt. "Did you hurt yourself?" Carlos whispers, and I can only stare at him. Carlos should never ask that kind of question. He's the crazy the one, the care free risk taker, the one who sees life as a huge adventure. He shouldn't be the one asking me if I've caused myself harm. But he is. I shake my head, and relief briefly, ever so briefly, flashes across their faces.

"Are you… depressed?" Kendall asks. He looks unsure of himself, which is so unlike Kendall. He's the one who always knows what to do, what to say. Now I've left him clinging to the surface, struggling to find the answers, and I feel guilty. There's that feeling again. My head nods, almost on it's own. Suddenly I'm not in control of my body anymore, and the sobs that I've been able to control so well are bursting out in loud, heart wrenching cries. My whole body trembles, and I hardly even notice when they all rush to my side, pulling me into a huge hug.

I hear them whispering things, trying to reassure me that I'll be okay, that they've got me, that it'll be better now, but I hardly hear them. I find that I don't want to listen, because it hurts too badly to do anything. They didn't notice. They probably wouldn't have realized what was wrong with me if they hadn't accidently found the website that I'd looked at a week ago. They wouldn't have realized that they were losing me, and that they had been for months. They wouldn't have realized until it was too late.

My crying grows louder and more painful by the second, and I can tell by the way their arms tremble around me that they're crying, too. It's so hard to be around them, but I know I have to do it, no matter how much it hurts. Then one of them, I'm not sure who, says something that makes me feel just a little bit better, better than I have since that moment with Gustavo. It's one simple sentence, but somehow it means all the world to me.

_"Everything will be okay." _

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**Guys, it hurt me to write this. No, I'm not depressed. Really, I'm not. But I know how much depression can hurt a person. This is probably the most serious thing I've ever written, as well as the most angst filled and depressing. This might seem lame to some of you, but it really isn't. And guess what. Everything I wrote? It could be so much worse for some people. For some people it's not as serious, and sometimes it's ten times worse, and unlike James, people don't want to fix themselves. So if you are, or even just think that you're depressed, or know someone that might be depressed, please, tell someone. Tell a parent, a teacher, **_**someone **_**who can help, because it's not something that should just be left alone. So please, listen to this. If you get anything out of this, know that depression is real, and it's hard. I'll see you guys soon.**


End file.
